


Only A Signal Shown

by meretricula



Series: Longfellow Trilogy [1]
Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: M/M, New Year's Resolutions, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:09:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meretricula/pseuds/meretricula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh," said Iskierka, who had been pretending not to listen, "it is very stupid; it is only that humans are not supposed to mate if they are not giving each other eggs, and of course Granby cannot give Tharkay one." (post-Victory of Eagles)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only A Signal Shown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wildestranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildestranger/gifts).



_Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,_  
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;  
So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another,  
Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.  
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Laurence, absorbed in the _Principia Mathematica_ , inasmuch as one might be said to be absorbed in a tract which one comprehended very little and cared for even less, did not take immediate notice of Granby and Tharkay's departure from the dragondeck. When he paused in his reading at last, Temeraire being satisfied to nap a little rather than exercise his mind further with mathematical principals he had no doubt long since committed to memory, he noted their absence, but without concern or much interest, save that Iskierka was thankfully settled and not complaining for Granby. He assumed, indeed nearly without being aware of having given consideration to the matter, that each had retired to his own quarters to rest, Granby from his long voyage, Tharkay from the press of company.

He was therefore much surprised, in the course of a brief walk to stretch his legs, to discover both men in a shadowy far corner of the deck, engaged in a very low-voiced yet intense discussion. Laurence had not thought the two of them even so familiar with each other as to allow for the slightness of space between them, yet many things must have transpired while he languished in prison, and that two of his friends should have become intimates was a great deal pleasanter than most of what he had discovered upon his liberation.

He wondered, however, whether he should interrupt, because Granby, at least, was clearly distressed by their conversation, and even Tharkay, inscrutable as ever, seemed inscrutable in a rather more unhappy way than the usual. "I know not what I should say, or what you would wish me to," Granby was saying, as Laurence drew within earshot. "If you would rather, I shall put off at Gibraltar; she would go, if I told her I should not be happy here. I will not hide behind my dragon," he added, a little stiffly. "You know she would not have brought me, if I had not wished to come."

"For God's sake, man," Tharkay said fiercely, "you cannot imagine I would rather anything of the sort, but I do not see how anything has changed since last we spoke. Seven months aboard a transport; we shall have less privacy, rather than more, and if you think any secret can survive in such close quarters you are a more fanciful man than I took you for."

Granby bowed his head, raising one hand to cover his eyes. "I know, it was the worst of foolish notions. But all she could see was that I was unhappy, and she wished me not to be, and so here I am."

Laurence watched, bemused, as Tharkay, looking more awkward than he had ever seen the man, reached out to touch Granby's shoulder. At that moment, the ship rolled in an unusually high wave, and Laurence staggered. Both Granby and Tharkay's eyes flew to him immediately, and they leapt apart. A flush, nearly invisible beneath his sunburn, crept up Granby's cheeks; Tharkay was impassive as marble. "Gentlemen," Laurence said cautiously. "I wondered whether you would care to join me; if you prefer to continue your conversation, of course, you need not."

Tharkay glanced from him to Granby and back. "I thank you, sir, but I believe I shall retire," he said. "It has been a long day, and with rather more people closer together than I am accustomed to. Good day." He nodded to Granby, then to Laurence, and withdrew, Granby staring dismally after him.

~*~

Granby trailed after Laurence for the rest of the day, pale under his tan and increasingly miserable. Laurence was quite at a loss what to do with him, for he neither had a gift for drawing confidences nor felt it appropriate to press from Granby the cause of his quarrel with Tharkay, though it was clearly a source of upset to both, for Tharkay did not reappear at all. At last, after dinner, when Granby and Laurence were the only two remaining on deck, and even Temeraire and Iskierka were dozing, Granby burst out wretchedly, "I pray - that is, I beg you will not think the less of him; it is entirely my fault; I am quite certain he would never have done anything half so foolish, if not for me," leaving Laurence to stare at him, amazed.

"John, forgive me, but I have not the least notion what you are talking about," he said at last.

Granby went violently red, then so white that even his prodigiously burnt cheeks showed it badly. "I - I beg your pardon," he stammered. "I shall not trouble you further." He rose, and looked ready to stumble below, but Iskierka stirred, and murmured, "Granby, Granby, come, no-one shall hurt you, I am here," a good deal more gently than Laurence had ever heard her speak, and wrapped herself carefully around him, putting up her wings to shelter them both from the cool night and Laurence's bewildered gaze. He could just barely hear her crooning to Granby, as if to sing him to sleep.

"Good-night, my dear," Laurence murmured to Temeraire, although the dragon was not awake to hear it, and withdrew to his tiny gaol-like cell below to rest. He did not at all understand what had transpired between Tharkay and Granby, or indeed Granby and himself, but he was nonetheless disturbed by it.

~*~

The next morning dawned fair and clear, and Laurence hoped that all the confusion of the previous day would somehow dissipate into the sunlight, but in vain. Tharkay came to break his fast with Laurence and his crew, saying nothing of what Laurence had overheard the previous day, but Granby did not. Indeed, all day long Granby could not be moved from Iskierka's side, nor would she suffer him to be persuaded, but hissed and lashed her tail at anyone who came near, except when Roland brought him food. She even left off pestering Temeraire about the egg, all of her ferociously intent love and attention brought to bear on her captain. Granby, for his part, seemed mostly insensible to it; he simply sat with her and stroked her nose, and made occasional reply to her comments, distracted and almost at random.

For the day, Laurence was inclined to let this strange behavior pass, but when it continued unabated for a week, his worry pressed him to overlook some small amount of rudeness in taking Tharkay aside for a quiet word, since he did not believe, as was the prevailing attitude on deck, that Granby was dejected over his lack of control over Iskierka, and that she was acting so strangely obliging out of guilt.

Laurence was privately rather horrified at his own forwardness, but he could see no other way around the situation; he was friends with both Tharkay and Granby, which could be said of no one else aboard but Temeraire and perhaps Iskierka, and so he was the only person who might be able to save them all a wretchedly uncomfortable seven months. "Tharkay, I pray you will forgive my asking, but is there any hope of your patching up your disagreement with Granby?" he asked softly.

Tharkay looked genuinely surprised, as much as he ever looked anything other than aloof and ironic. "I have not quarreled with Granby," he said.

"I beg your pardon," Laurence said, at a loss; "it is only that you have not spoken to him in a week."

"No," Tharkay agreed, "but then I do not believe anyone has really spoken to Granby, save Iskierka, in that same space of time; you can hardly impute that to a quarrel with me."

Laurence looked at him, frustrated. "I do not ask you to confide in me," he said. "It is not my place. But any fool can see that Granby is miserably unhappy, and I do not think you are so far different, for all that you hide it better, and seven months will be a very long time to continue not speaking to each other aboard a ship of any size, so if it is at all possible I pray you will consider that before deciding your course of action. If you wish me to pretend I did not hear you argue, I will, but please do not think me a fool."

Tharkay stared at him, startled into letting his face lapse from its usual stony blankness. "Then you truly do not mind?"

"Mind your and Granby's making-up? Good God, man, have you heard nothing I have just said to you?" Laurence demanded. "If my opinion will have any effect whatsoever upon you, then for all love, go and apologize, or whatever it is you must do, at once."

~*~

Tharkay did not apologize at once. However, he remained on deck with Granby when the rest of the crew went in to dine, and when they came out again the two men were both seated against Iskierka's side, sharing a bottle of wine, and most of the strain was gone from Granby's face, so Laurence was willing to count it a victory.

After Tharkay and Granby had gone below deck, presumably to finish the wine in Tharkay's quarters, Laurence sat leaning against one of Temeraire's forelegs, trying to find his place in _Principia Mathematica_ , which was rendered difficult by the fact that for the most part he really had no understanding of what he was reading. "I am glad Granby and Tharkay have made up," he said absently.

"Yes," Temeraire agreed; "although I do not understand at all why they had to stop spending time together, when it made Granby so sad. It is very nice that Tharkay likes Granby, for Granby likes him very much."

"Oh," said Iskierka, who had been pretending not to listen, "it is very stupid; it is only that humans are not supposed to mate if they are not giving each other eggs, and of course Granby cannot give Tharkay one. And I do not see that it is anyone's business, or anyone's fault that Granby does not have eggs to give, and if anyone tried to hang my Granby for it I should cook him. And I suppose I would do the same if they tried to do anything to Tharkay," she added, "since Granby is so very fond of him, especially since it is such a very stupid reason, after all."

"Good God," Laurence said involuntarily, scanning the deck for anyone else who might have heard, but thankfully it was late, and even the sailors on watch were not close enough to listen; Iskierka made them extremely nervous, so they stayed as far away as they could. A great many things abruptly made a great deal more sense: privacy, and the lack thereof; a secret that would be difficult to keep; Granby's horror at their being discovered, and his depression at what he must have perceived as a snub from Laurence; Tharkay's surprise at Laurence's approval. "Good God," he repeated, "and I gave him my blessing."

"Laurence, is that true?" Temeraire asked, peering down at him. "Surely you are not trying to give an egg to Jane; is she not rather old for it? And I do not think Excidium would like it at all for Jane to have to go away for months, like Catherine when she had her egg, when he already has Emily."

"No, my dear," Laurence said, helplessly, "I am not trying to give an egg to Jane. It is frowned on, for women to - to mate, unless they are married, but Jane is an admiral and no-one will dare give her trouble for it."

"I should think Excidium would not let them!" Temeraire exclaimed. "That is a very silly rule, for mating is a great deal of fun, and it is not fair that women should not be allowed unless they are married, when some of them do not like to be married; Lily says that Catherine had better far never to have married Riley, and kept the egg for herself. But neither Granby nor Tharkay is a woman, so I do not see how the rule can apply."

"My dear, you must not say such things," Laurence said urgently. "They would try to hang Granby, if they had any notion, and they certainly _would_ hang Tharkay. People do not like for men to lie with other men; it is forbidden in the Bible, and there are laws against it."

"But the Bible forbids a great many things that we do anyway," Temeraire protested. "It says, 'thou shalt not kill,' and we have all of us on this ship killed a great many people, although most of them attacked us, so it is really not our fault," he added.

"It is the law," Laurence said at last. "They would hang for it."

"But surely you do not agree with it?" Temeraire asked anxiously. "Because I do not want Granby or Tharkay to be hanged, at all, and it is a very stupid law, and I do not see why anyone should ever listen to a law when it is wrong!" His tail lashed against the deck.

Laurence, who had never in his life questioned the justice of the sodomy laws, thought about the smile that had ever so briefly lifted the corners of Tharkay's mouth when Iskierka landed sprawling on the deck of the _Allegiance_ , and Granby's pale, unhappy face during the past week, and Iskierka curling around Granby to comfort him and sing him to sleep. "No, my dear," he said lowly, "I do not agree with it at all."

~*~

Laurence lay awake for many hours that night, unable to sleep for the knowledge that he had, all unaware, counseled Tharkay to embark upon a course that might lead to his death. The sodomy laws might be wrong; _were_ wrong, he allowed himself to go so far as to think, if they would condemn his friends, when he had never known a finer pair of men in all his years. But the courts would not give two figs for right or wrong if Tharkay and Granby were caught, and while Granby was safe enough, so long as Iskierka stood between him and a noose, a half-Oriental adventurer without family or fortune or dragon had no such protection.

They _would_ hang him for it, if Tharkay were caught.

Laurence's resolve to speak to them both wavered in the morning, when he saw them already settled by Iskierka. Granby looked happy, for the first time that week; happier, in fact, than Laurence had ever seen him. Iskierka seemed much relieved, and rather inclined to be smug, although she was not yet taunting Temeraire, for which Laurence was grateful. Tharkay's almond-shaped eyes were crinkled up in a most unaccustomed smile.

The thought of Tharkay in a noose came to him again, and Laurence steeled himself for the coming unpleasant conversation. "Good morning, gentlemen."

"Good morning, Laurence," Granby said. Tharkay contented himself with a nod.

"I pray your pardon, but I must speak with you. Privately." Laurence watched, cursing himself for a fool, as the smile evaporated off of Granby's face.

"I will stay with Iskierka," Tharkay said. "You may use my quarters, Laurence, if they would suit. I think they are a trifle quieter than the dragondeck." He brushed Granby's arm in passing - a small gesture, so small that Laurence would have sworn it was accidental if he had only seen it the day before. Now he could not help but notice the deliberate way Tharkay had moved, or the infinitesimal relaxation of Granby's mouth. It was not a comfortable knowledge.

They managed a creditable conversation of inconsequentials on the way to Tharkay's cabin: Jane's new position as Admiral of the Air, and how Wellington seemed to be settling with the dragons. They even contrived to avoid recourse to the weather. As soon as the cabin door was shut behind them, Granby broke off in mid-sentence and began, "Laurence, I - "

Laurence shook his head. "Granby - John. Let me say my piece." Granby subsided, sitting with careless ease on Tharkay's bed. Laurence remained standing, his hands held stiffly at his sides. "I did not understand what you were asking me, when last we spoke. I meant no slight or offense, and I am deeply sorry for any hurt you took from my words." Granby made as if to speak again, and Laurence held out his hand. "No, please, this - this is not easy to say.

"You are your own man now, and I doubt Tharkay has ever been otherwise. I cannot say what course you ought to take. I can only... ask that you consider what may come about from this present bearing." Laurence swallowed hard, meeting Granby's eyes, and added bluntly. "John, you are my friends, and I do not wish to see either of you hanged for this."

Granby ran a hand through his hair, distracted. "Laurence - oh, hell. Do you think me ignorant of what risks we run? Call it love," he said bitterly, "when it should get my lover killed."

"I am very sorry," Laurence said quietly. "I do not know what I could do; I cannot protect either of you. I think justice will be very rough in New South Wales."

Granby sighed. "It is not quite - Leightley is senior at the covert there, and the entire Corps knows about her third lieutenant and her surgeon; it was half the reason they sent her south in the first place, and her on a Longwing, when we could certainly have used her elsewhere." At Laurence's puzzled look, he explained, "She refused to give them up for trial, you know. Her crew stood with her to a man, and the admiralty could find no graceful way around her, when the dragon was set on it too, so they sent them all as far out of sight as they could manage and endeavored to forget the whole affair."

Laurence was silent, beyond being surprised at the Aerial Corps' way of avoiding regulations when they failed to suit their dragons, as Granby went on, "I am not so much afraid of Terra Australis. But Iskierka is stationed in England, assuming Wellington does not find some way to go over Roland's head to execute her for insubordination, and I do not think a soul in Britain would fight for Tharkay, if there should be grounds for a trial.

"We had settled it before you left, that it would be best to part, so one of us might go with you, at least, and look after you - oh, for heaven's sake, Laurence, you get into more scrapes than the rest of the Corps combined, do not give me that look. But Iskierka took it into her head that I should not be unhappy over it, and after I explained she started her nonsense about Temeraire and an egg."

"She is rather more clever than I had thought," Laurence murmured.

Granby let out a bark of laughter. "She has a certain streak of cunning, at least. Well, she's set on it now, and no mistake, but she wouldn't have thought of it if she hadn't been casting about for a way to get me to Australia. I think by the time we get there Temeraire might even oblige her, if only to be rid of her complaints. But my - duty is plain," he said, stumbling only a little, "and we must return to England, as soon as this business is completed, and Tharkay cannot come with us. Iskierka has bought me seven months reprieve, and I am grateful, but I fear the stay of execution may make it all the more difficult to say my farewells." He smiled, but it was a sad attempt.

"Good man," Laurence said quietly, clapped Granby on the shoulder, and left Tharkay's cabin. On deck, he nodded very deliberately to Tharkay, who with great economy of motion inclined his head in return. Iskierka, Laurence was somewhat surprised to see, had apparently foregone any jealousy of Granby's affections towards Tharkay in favor of adopting Tharkay into her own, for she had coiled her tail around him as any dragon would her captain, although rather loosely, so he would not be hurt by the heat or steam. Temeraire was eyeing her askance for this gesture, as he considered Tharkay to be a part of _his_ crew, but for the moment at least he seemed willing to let it pass.

A few minutes later, Granby emerged once more, wholly composed, and went to join Tharkay and Iskierka. She nudged him with her snout a little anxiously and nearly knocked him over, which won a brief laugh from Tharkay. Laurence looked over at them thoughtfully, then drifted across the deck to Iskierka as well. "Gentlemen," he said. "I thought today I might attempt to teach the dragons to play at cards. Would you care to assist me?"

~*~

The _Allegiance_ reached Gibraltar without further earth-shattering revelations. For the most part everyone had accepted Iskierka's presence: Laurence's crew was happy to have Granby about, the two other aviators cared so little for anything beyond their grief over their lost dragons that they might not have even noticed, Riley seemed genuinely fond of Granby after all their travels together, and even Temeraire was at least resigned. He and Iskierka had had an acrimonious dispute over claim to Tharkay, but they had thankfully had the good sense to hold it while catching their breakfast on the ocean, rather than aboard ship and within earshot of every man on the _Allegiance_ , and it seemed to have been resolved to both their satisfaction. Tharkay himself had not been consulted.

Laurence, officially a prisoner, was not permitted to leave the ship while it was in the harbor, but he managed to send Roland off with a letter to Jane to hand over to the couriers. He would have liked to speak with her, although he doubted he would have been able to address any of the topics troubling him in anything but a rather sidelong fashion; he missed her no-nonsense attitude more than their occasional tumble into bed. Still, he thought he was rather happier than he had any right to expect. He had Temeraire, for which alone he would have counted himself fortunate if he had nothing else in the world, and his crew, and friends. If he missed England, and freedom - and he did - it was nothing he would not have sacrificed for duty, and there was other recompense: Temeraire's abiding love, Tharkay's sharp sense of humor, Granby's good nature, even Emily Roland's frustration with her maths. He would have been a great deal more home-sick in England without them, than he was aboard a prison-ship headed for New South Wales in their company.

~*~

Provisioning in St. Helena was as uneventful as Gibraltar; Granby was seen to be rather determinedly cheerful, but Laurence thought it only noticeable to someone who knew to look for it, and let it pass. Tharkay must have spoken to him earlier in the voyage on the subject of discretion, for he had ceased to wander about in a visible daze of happiness perhaps two weeks after Iskierka's coming to the _Allegiance_ , and so the contrast was not very great.

Iskierka took note, however, and resumed her solicitous behavior. Laurence found it rather a puzzle that so hot-headed and self-interested a creature might also be deeply concerned and even gentle with her handler, but Iskierka seemed to find no such contradiction. She had calmed a bit, mostly under Tharkay's serene influence, but the division of her fellows into those she cared for (to wit, Granby, with the recent addition of Tharkay), towards whom she was attentive and ferociously protective, and the rest of the world, for which she blatantly did not care a whit, was not a new development. Whatever the reason, Iskierka's unhesitating generosity towards her captain and his companion raised her significantly in Laurence's estimation.

"I suppose she has taken good care of Tharkay," Temeraire conceded grudgingly, during a solitary morning flight. "Not that I would not have done, but if she must have him, at least she has not let him be harmed."

"I think she has matured considerably, on this voyage," Laurence offered.

"She is not in the least bigger," Temeraire objected. "And if she should grow there would not be room for both of us on the deck, so I am thankful for it."

"I only meant that her attitude is much improved, my dear," Laurence said. "Do you not agree?"

"Oh, well," Temeraire hedged, "I suppose. She is not quite so annoying, at least. And perhaps I should not mind so much, giving her an egg, once we have arrived at New South Wales."

~*~

New South Wales was not much at all like the original south Wales, Laurence reflected as he and Temeraire flew ashore to their new home, but it was beautiful nonetheless. The covert was very much freshly built, compared to those in Britain, and surrounded by lush greenery and happily grazing sheep; the climate, he could not help but think, was certainly warmer.

"You must be Laurence," said the woman who stood waiting to greet them on the landing grounds. She stepped forward and gripped his hand firmly. "Captain Leightley, of Victrix," she added, with a gesture towards her Longwing, who was eyeing Temeraire with great curiosity from where she lay sprawled out on the ground, some hundred yards away. "I need not tell you what an honor it is to meet you."

Laurence was saved from having to make reply to this uncomfortable admiration by the arrival of Tharkay and Granby aboard Iskierka. "Granby!" Leightley exclaimed with evident pleasure. "I've not seen you in a dog's age."

"Leightley, glad to see you well," Granby replied, as he stepped forward to first shake her hand and then catch her in a brief, back-thumping embrace. "We served together aboard Fluitare, when I was a mid," he said by way of explanation to Tharkay, and then there was a round of introductions, which gave Laurence time to take stock of Leightley.

She was a giant of a woman, taller than Laurence; taller even than Granby, he had noted during their exchange, and solidly muscled rather than slender. She was not in the least bit pretty, and Laurence suspected she had not been even before taking the blade to the face which had left her with a scar slashing crosswise from her temple across her nose to just above her mouth. The part of Laurence that had never quite accustomed itself to the thought of women in combat stirred with pity; regardless of any beauty she might have once possessed, she was young to have lost the eye. Her coat had been discarded in the warm sun, leaving her in only her shirt, and the sleeves were pushed up to her elbows to reveal extensive powder burns on her hands and forearms. Laurence had to hurriedly revise the impression he had had of her from the little gossip Granby had passed along.

"But I suppose you will be hungry," she said, drawing Laurence's attention back to the present, "and I have a dispatch for you from Admiral Roland, Laurence; it is really the best possible choice for Wellington," she continued to Granby, leading all three of them up to the covert, after passing off the letter. "I was second lieutenant aboard Excidium, and there's not a finer captain than Roland in all the Corps."

Laurence broke the seal and opened the letter as he walked. _Dear Will_ , he read, _I received your letter, and am glad you continue in good cheer. I have the most famous news, which I cannot hold back from delivering first, though you may not believe me; I would scarce credit it, if I had not seen it myself. That quarrelsome little cross-breed Temeraire attached to himself in the breeding grounds has decided to take Wellington for her captain, or near enough as makes no never mind. They squabble night and day, but only say a word against one and the other will be up in arms. One of the Army fellows made remarks in Wellington's presence about being rid of dragons who would neither fight nor breed, and he took such offense on Perscitia's account I thought he might call the man out. The next day he made her Quartermaster General of the Aerial Corps, to which post she has taken like a duck to water, and they bicker happily over supply lines as though they had been married twenty years. He has had a pavilion built for her on his new estate, if you can credit it, and but last week I caught him reading to her out of a book of mathematics. When he saw me he looked guilty as a man caught giving sweets to a child behind its mother's back, and kept reading._

_As to your suggestion, I have given thought to it, and consulted with Wellington, and we are forced to agree with you. If she breeds, I will take every egg and pray God they take after their mother's breath and not her temper, but for the time being, at least, Iskierka will do far better to remain where she is. You may tell Granby that he should send for any of his crew he wishes to join him in New South Wales, but for now, he may borrow whomever he needs from Captain Leightley, or choose from the unassigned officers at the covert. If you think my suggestion will have any weight, he ought to ask Tharkay if he will mind the demotion; the man would make an excellent first lieutenant, and I am happy to grant him another commission if he would be willing to take it._

_I thank you for your news of Emily. I do not wish to seem to hover, but pray do not hesitate to write anything of her to me, good or bad, and I hope you will appeal to Captain Leightley if ever you have concerns for my Emily or any of the other younger officers; she is a fine captain, and experienced at looking after her subordinates._

Laurence frowned slightly, trying to work out, from what Granby had told him was common knowledge about Leightley's junior officers, if this was supposed to be a hidden message of some sort. He had to give up this line of thought after a moment; it hurt his head to think of Jane saying anything obliquely. Perhaps he could show the letter to Tharkay that evening, and ask his opinion.

The letter concluded with the usual valedictions, and Laurence put it carefully away in a pocket to be read again later, then hurried to catch up with Granby and Tharkay, who in matching Leightley's long stride had gotten a bit ahead of him.

The officer's club where she deposited them was much like the one at Loch Laggan, although no one threw a ball at Laurence's head as he entered. Two ensigns were engaged in a clearly hotly contested chess-match, and most of the officers were crowded around them, cheering each capture indiscriminately. "My second and third lieutenants," Leightley said, gesturing for them to join her, "Mary Robbins and Lindsay Hunt." Robbins was a tall, statuesque woman who would have been impressive if she had not been standing next to Leightley, and had been called away from a seat on the couch where she was working on a piece of what Laurence would be forced to confess was very fine embroidery; Hunt, whose eye Laurence was somewhat ashamed to meet, having listened to gossip no man should about another officer, even if it were true, was slight and small, with a rather anxious look, and had come over still clutching the book he had been reading by the window.

Introductions were duly made, which turned into a lengthy process as Granby and Leightley cheerfully reminisced about their service together. Laurence listened with only half an ear, wondering how best to take Granby and Tharkay aside to inform them of Granby's reassignment; he could tell them at that very instant, of course, but he had rather give them some privacy to contain Granby's inevitable outburst. He had been so increasingly tightly wound over the past week that Laurence was a little afraid he might explode. He seemed mostly distracted by Leightley, thank God, but Tharkay still gave him an occasional worried glance when he thought no one would notice.

They were interrupted by the arrival of another officer, who entered without fanfare and caught Leightley's attention by placing an extremely familiar hand on her waist, which Laurence eyed a little askance. "My first lieutenant, Thomas Shadwell," she introduced him absently. "What is it, Shadow?"

"Only that our newest additions might like a meal in private, to recover from their journey," he said with a faint smile. He was middling tall, almost but not quite eye-to-eye with his captain, and had an air of general deference that went strangely with his casual address of Leightley.

"Oh, yes, of course - Lindsay, be so good as to show Captains Laurence and Granby to the rooms assigned to them. Mister Tharkay, if you mean to remain with us, you are very welcome to any of the rooms in that hallway."

"I thank you, Captain, and I think I shall take advantage of your hospitality," Tharkay said quietly.

Lieutenant Hunt's conversation, as he led them down hallways and up stairs, was more nervous than congenial, but he was greeted affectionately by all who passed, both officers and crew, including a cheerfully bluff man in his early twenties, not in uniform but carrying a handful of plant specimens. Laurence realized only belatedly and at the prompting of Granby's significant look that he must have been the surgeon Leightley had gotten herself exiled over. Laurence understood to his growing astonishment that Granby had been quite right in his assessment of the atmosphere in the covert: whether because of their distance from the Admiralty and the enforcement of regulations, or simply due to the clannishness of the crews (and Laurence had noted that Victrix's men in particular were very deliberate in expressing their fondness for Hunt), no one seemed willing to harass or ostracize the man for his predilections, though aboard any ship in the Navy they would have gotten him hauled up before a tribunal and in all likelihood executed in short order.

Once Hunt had deposited them all in their rooms, announced the hour supper was served, and departed, Laurence quickly checked that his belongings had been put in proper order and went to look in on Granby. Tharkay was already in Granby's quarters, embroiled in one of their quiet discussions; Granby had lost his facade of good spirits and looked decidedly miserable, and whatever Tharkay was saying to him did not appear to be having any noticeable effect at cheering him up.

"John," Laurence said apologetically from the doorway, "I do not mean to intrude," but Granby waved for him to enter, and Tharkay shot him a rather more expressive look than Laurence would have expected in anyone's company, even Granby's. "Roland had orders for you, in her letter," he said softly, and Granby's head shot up, face white under his sunburn and lips pressed tight over a protest. "You and Iskierka are to remain here in New South Wales for the foreseeable future; Wellington cannot be sanguine about keeping her in England, when there are no battles to keep her occupied. Of course the Corps will be glad of any eggs, if Iskierka is so inclined, but your assignment does not depend on it."

Throughout their journey, Laurence had been accustomed to think of Granby as the more emotional, and he had in fact expected a strong outpouring of feeling in one direction or another at this news, so he was quite amazed that Granby took it in total silence, without more reaction than the relaxation of his rigid shoulders. It was Tharkay who slowly sank down onto the bed, buried his face in his hands, and said, low and indistinct, "Oh, thank God."

Laurence looked away, as Granby wrapped an arm around Tharkay's shaking shoulders and pressed a kiss to his temple. It was the most affection he had even seen pass between the two, and while he was glad for his friends, Laurence could not help but feel a little uncomfortable at seeing their emotions on display. He had rather take a bullet anywhere that would not kill him, Laurence thought, than see a woman weep, and the muffled sounds he could hear from behind Tharkay's hands were a thousand times worse, for he knew Tharkay himself to be a deeply private man.

At last he heard Tharkay draw a deep breath and sit up straight, and when Laurence turned back he was utterly composed once more, although he suspected that if Tharkay had not been so dark-complected his face would have been rather red. "Did Admiral Roland have any other news?" he asked politely.

"The strangest I have heard, indeed," Laurence said, very happy to play along if Tharkay wished to pretend his outburst had never happened. "Perscitia - do you remember Perscitia? She was the argumentative cross-breed who was such great friends with Temeraire - she has taken up with Wellington, and apparently they make a happily contrary pair."

Tharkay and Granby both made appropriate noises of amusement and surprise. Laurence hesitated, then added, "Jane asked me to advise you, John, if Tharkay should be willing, to make him your first lieutenant; you are to send for whichever of your officers you wish, but they will be at least eight months coming if they are willing to shift their position at all."

Granby burst out laughing, and if his merriment had a faintly hysterical edge, Laurence would not have commented if a pistol had been held to his head. "What say you, beloved?" he managed at last. "Can Iskierka and I induce you to put on uniform once more?"

Tharkay looked reflective rather than diverted. "It is strange; I had never thought to be in service, yet I have taken the bars and given them back once already. And for all love it is not so difficult to put them on once more. I make a poor officer of the King, John, but for you and Iskierka I think I shall serve quite well."

A servant knocked on Granby's door with the dinner that Leightley had had sent up, interrupting the moment before it could grow too uncomfortable for Laurence. He thought Granby had been genuinely surprised; Tharkay was not the type to declare himself in words, though his actions had made his feeling clear enough.

The fraught atmosphere had been well and truly broken, and conversation over their meal was light. As he finished eating, Laurence could no longer hold back asking, "John, forgive my curiosity, but what was the second reason that Captain Leightley was sent here? You have told me the one, but I fear I may tread upon something better left alone unless I know."

Granby chuckled. "She's been carrying on with her first lieutenant since he was first assigned to Victrix. It isn't as common as you might expect, but it does happen, with the Longwing captains, every now and then; usually the Admiralty transfers the fellow away and that's the end of that. But she wouldn't let them shift him, and he wouldn't go, even when they offered him a promotion. So they all had to pretend not to know, and meanwhile the other scandal came up, and the Admiralty threw up their hands en masse and shipped her off - out of sight, out of mind. And here she is in New South Wales, and happy as can be."

"May we all be so fortunate," Laurence said quietly, lifting his glass.

Tharkay matched his toast in silence, and Granby smiled at them both. "You know, I do believe we shall."


End file.
